Monet
by Dr.GG
Summary: Did anyone else ever notice that Blair couldn't look at Leo in 'Con Heir? This is my alternative version of the Blair and Dorota conversation from that episode, 5x18. Hints of CB, because that's how I roll, but primarily Blair and Dorota.


Did anyone else ever notice that Blair couldn't look at Leo in 'Con Heir'? This is my alternative version of the Blair and Dorota conversation from that episode, 5x18. Hints of CB, because that's how I roll, but primarily Blair and Dorota.

As always, I own nothing. Many of the early lines were taken directly from the episode.

* * *

"_What's a Monet?"_

"_It's like the painting, see? From far away, it's okay. But up close, it's a big old mess."_

Taken from one of my favorite movies, 'Clueless'

* * *

Blair barged into Dorota's place in Queens, not even considering that her faithful servant may actually have her own life. But she was quickly reminded of that fact as she saw the small baby boy in Dorota's arms. She had to look away.

"Thought it was crank call when you say that you come to Queens," said a shocked Dorota as she watched Blair walk further into her home while she bounced Leo on her shoulder.

"Why?" Blair asked, looking in any other direction so that she could avoid watching Dorota lovingly place Leo in his bassinet. With an air of superiority she stated, "You know my manners are impeccable."

When Blair didn't hear any noise coming from the opposite direction she turned and continued with a derogatory and falsely upbeat tone, "Even if it means crossing into unsavory areas to give you a baby gift."

Dorota lit up at the mention of a gift from Blair, knowing that her charge had the excellent taste in practically everything. Plus she had yet to receive anything from Blair for baby Leo.

Blair then extended her hand bearing the gift to Dorota and added, "You weren't there to wrap it, so."

Dorota readily opened the box, eager to see what was inside. Disappointed and slightly angered, she commented, "This is regift from your wedding to Prince, not present for Leo."

Blair blew off Dorota's obvious annoyance and started rationalizing, "Everyone brings the child a gift, but no one needs champagne like a new mother."

Without even a second thought, Blair started looking around. "You must have something to break these in with."

Dorota just stood there, dumbfounded, for a minute or so as she observed Blair looking frantically for something to drink. She was acting very unBlair-like and Dorota knew something wasn't right. But then again, she knew that Blair hadn't been herself for a few months now. While she'd never say it, Blair's behavior recently reminded Dorota of a quote from the movie Clueless, which Blair had made her watch numerous times, regarding the work of Monet: _From far away, it's okay. But up close, it's a big old mess._

Dorota was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Blair proclaim, "This will do," just as she pulled a bottle of vodka from the cabinet.

Before Dorota could do anything, Blair had filled her champagne flute with the clear liquor and hastily downed the entire glass. She quickly began to refill the glass when Dorota intervened.

"STOP!" and Dorota grabbed the glass before Blair could tip the liquid down her throat.

This action provoked a response in Blair, and not the type Dorota was hoping for.

"Excuse me?" Blair snapped as she jerked her hand and the glass away from Dorota. Using the glass to point at her maid, Blair barked back, "You are not my mother." She then drained the glass of vodka much to Dorota's chagrin.

"Fine," Dorota sighed, trying to think of a new tactic to uncover what was troubling Blair. "What Mr. Lonely Boy do now?"

Blair tilted her head to the side and raised her brow, before taking another sip of vodka to sidestep answering Dorota's question.

"Okay, not Mr. Lonely Boy," Dorota reasoned aloud. "What Mr. Chuck do now?"

"Who said anything about Chuck? Why are you bringing him into this?" argued Blair, and it was clear that Dorota had struck a nerve.

"Because it always about Mr. Chuck."

"Well not this time," Blair adamantly stated, and she again took a swig of vodka. When she regained her voice, she continued, "You know, the whole world does not revolve around Chuck Bass."

"He worried about…"

However Dorota was quickly interrupted before she could even finish her sentence.

"Chuck understands," and with that Blair closed the discussion about Chuck. Still, there was something about the way she said it that told Dorota Chuck Bass was not far from Blair's thoughts.

All of sudden, the room was filled with the cries of a baby. Blair, who was obviously uncomfortable, got up from her seat and began to pace back and forth. She studied the knickknacks on the top of the cabinet and avoided looking in the direction of the cries. She could hear Dorota trying to settle Leo down and she finally got up the courage to face her fear. She turned and found herself staring directly at Leo, as he was propped on his mother's shoulder.

Blair couldn't breathe – it was as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She couldn't move. She was frozen. She was stuck. Literally and figuratively.

It wasn't until she felt Dorota's hand on her shoulder that Blair recognized any time had passed at all. She slowly raised her eyes and when they met Dorota's, the maid noted the emptiness in them. Like Blair wasn't really there.

"Sit down Ms. Blair," and Dorota carefully guided Blair into the chair. She then managed to swiftly swaddle Leo and place him back in the bassinet. Dorota dashed into the kitchen to pour herself and her charge a cup of tea. When she returned Blair was in the exact same position. She was sitting stiffly, as if locked in her position, with her eyes fixated on a picture on the wall. She hadn't moved at all. So Dorota delicately placed the warm cup of liquid in Blair's hands and watched as the young lady took a tepid sip.

Dorota softly approached the subject, "What's wrong Ms. Blair?"

By this time, Blair had started to regain some of her composure; her mask was starting to reassemble.

"Nothing's wrong," Blair denied, shaking her head from side to side as she still stared at the painting hanging on the wall. She then turned to face Dorota with her mask firmly back in place. "It must have been the alcohol hitting my system. I'm fine."

"Blair," Dorota used just Blair's first name. Then she tenderly reached out and took Blair's hand before challenging her, "You not fine for months."

Again, Blair shook her head from side-to-side in defiance but this time she didn't say a word. She did however tighten her grasp on Dorota's hand.

While many people considered her relationship simply a professional one, they didn't know the truth. Dorota cared for Blair deeply and she knew her as well as anyone. And because of this, she knew how to handle Blair and how to get her to open up.

"Talk to me," prodded the woman who had helped raise her.

Blair didn't look at Dorota but instead turned her gaze in the direction of the bassinet. With her eyes locked on the inanimate object that harbored a now serene Leo, she shared a secret with Dorota.

"Did you know that Chuck was going to help me raise my baby?"

Dorota quietly answered, "No."

She didn't want to say anything else. She wanted to leave the conversation open for Blair. She wanted her friend to heal, and she had a feeling that Blair needed to talk about what happened to someone.

"Right before the accident," and Blair paused as she recollected the events of that tragic evening. A brief, tentative smile reached Blair's lips when she recalled Chuck's words. "He said he was going to love my baby as much as he loves me. That 'us' no longer meant just he and I, but my baby too." And just as quickly as the smile appeared on Blair's face, it vanished.

Blair sniffed and uncharacteristically wiped violently at her nose as a tear made its way down her cheek. Then she uttered so softly that Dorota could barely hear her, "We were going to be a family."

"Blair," gasped a very sympathetic Dorota as she found herself wiping at her own eyes. She desperately wanted to see Blair happy, and it broke her heart to hear just how close Blair was to having all her dreams come true and how it was all taken away from her so suddenly.

Blair was still focused on the bassinet. Before either of them knew what was happening, Blair was on her feet and making her way over to it. She slowly reached out her trembling hand to touch the edge of the crib. Blair then took the final step so that she was able to look inside and see Leo sleeping. All the while, Dorota observed from across the room, not saying a word.

"He's so small," mumbled Blair, completely entranced by the sight of the sleeping baby.

"Leo five weeks old," Dorota delicately answered, unsure if Blair would make the connection.

But of course she did.

"My due date was February 10th. If my baby had survived, _she_ would be almost two months old now," revealed Blair as the tears started to flow again. The only people who knew the sex of Blair's baby were Blair, Serena, and Eleanor. Blair never even told Louis. It was too hard. It hurt too much. That's why she never talked about it.

"Your baby a girl?" Dorota asked gently while surprised by the turn in the conversation. This was the first time since the accident that Blair had talked about the baby she lost, so Dorota knew this was delicate ground. She wouldn't push Blair, but she would listen to anything she chose to say.

Blair nodded up and down slightly in acknowledgement and continued, "I named her Grace Eleanor because she was my princess." She then hissed, "I'm sure the Grimaldis wouldn't approve."

"Who care what Grimaldis think?" Dorota ascended to her feet and within seconds enveloped Blair from behind with her arms. Then she whispered in Blair's ear words of assurance, "Grace a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

On instinct, Blair turned around, settled into Dorota's warm, accepting embrace, and broke down sobbing for the loss of her daughter. The accident had happened months ago, but the wounds were still fresh and Blair didn't know if and how she would ever recover. Instead of dealing with the tragedy, she was running away from it. Putting on the face of the perfectly poised princess. Acting like it had never happened. That way she didn't have to think about it. The problem was that the loss was never far from her mind. Or her heart.

After cradling Blair in her arms for a while, Dorota maneuvered them both in the direction of the sofa so they could sit down. She them brought over a box of tissues and they both dried their eyes. Dorota continued to rub soothing circles on her dear friend's back and willingly accepted her back into a hug when Blair leaned into her body. A few minutes later, Dorota dared to speak.

"Maybe you should talk to someone?"

Blair didn't answer with words but shook her head back and forth to emphasize 'NO' and she furthered burrowed into Dorota.

"Blair," eased Dorota while gently caressing the back of her head, urging her to face her, "this not good."

"No," verbalized Blair when she lifted her head. "I've been to enough therapists in the past. I know what people are going to say."

"What?" asked Dorota because she needed to know Blair's reasoning behind not seeking counseling. Otherwise, there would be no way for her to help the young woman heal.

"They'll tell me it was not my fault." Then Blair confessed, "But that's not true – it was all my fault."

"No," Dorota steadfastly stated because in no way were any of these tragic events were caused by Blair. She cupped Blair's face in her hands, looked her in the eyes, and repeated, "Paparazzi chase. Tripp Vanderbilt cut brakes. Their fault. Not you."

But Blair wasn't listening. Instead, she had once again risen to her feet and this time she moved to look out the window. In an attempt to distance herself from Dorota. From the look of shame she pictured on Dorota's face.

Blair was convinced she was right about this. That the accident was her fault. Even though she had tried not to, her mind was consumed with memories of that day for the past few months. She had gone over every detail from that horrible day again and again, and she always came to the same conclusion. She could have prevented all of it if she had just stayed home.

"It was my decision to get into the car," Blair irrationally reasoned. "I should have just stayed at home and then the accident would have never happened."

"You not know."

"If I wasn't so selfish," sniffled Blair as a tear escaped, "Chuck wouldn't have gotten hurt and my Grace would still be here."

"Blair," breathed Dorota as her heart continued to break for Blair. She could tell the guilt was weighing her young friend down.

"I should have protected her. That was my job and I didn't do it." Blair's voice became faint as she gazed down and began to trace her stomach where her baby once grew. "I failed her."

"Stop," insisted Dorota. She hated seeing Blair blame herself for something that was out of her control. "This not your fault."

However, this time instead of crumbling, Blair lashed out, "Then why? Why did this happen?" She then turned and glanced at the bassinet and pondered aloud, "Why did my baby die and not yours?"

Many people would be appalled by Blair's comment, but Dorota wasn't one of those people. She knew better. She knew that Blair wished no ill will towards her son. That this was Blair's way of trying to understand why this had happened to her of all people. So, instead of answering Blair's question, Dorota moved to comfort her friend again.

"Don't!" barked Blair as she turned to face Dorota again, essentially stopping the woman in her tracks. "You have no idea how I feel. Your baby didn't die. Both of your babies are alive. I never even got to hold my baby girl. To see her open her eyes or take her first breath. And I will never get to see her grow up. To take her first steps and say her first words."

"I know this hard…"

"No you don't," snapped a visibly distraught Blair. It was obvious she was close to unraveling. "You don't know what I'm going through. You don't know what it's like to wake up and have your best friend tell you that your baby didn't make it and that the love of your life may not either. And I have no one else to blame but myself. Because I am a horrible, selfish person."

"You not a horrible person," countered Dorota as she again grasped Blair's hands. Then she looked into her eyes and said with full conviction, "I know your heart. You a good person."

Blair tore her eyes from Dorota and shook her head in disagreement. But Dorota would no longer let her run from the truth, "It was an _accident_. You mustn't blame yourself."

"But…" muttered Blair as she struggled to collect herself.

Dorota did not let Blair continue. Instead, she compassionately provided, "Baby Grace not meant for this world."

Blair covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut to prevent another flood of tears at hearing Dorota mention her baby. Then she heard Dorota say, "And Mr. Chuck okay now."

"Only because I vowed to stay away from him."

"Oh, Ms. Blair," sighed Dorota. While she was a woman of faith, Dorota didn't believe that Chuck survived because of Blair's vow to God. "Doctors save Mr. Chuck. Staying away from Mr. Chuck only hurt him now."

Blair winced and looked away at Dorota's comment. She had persuaded herself that staying away from Chuck was in his best interest. That while he may be hurting now, in the long run, he would be better off without her.

And Blair was also protecting her own heart. She loved Chuck too much and she couldn't fathom losing him again. She knew she wouldn't be able to take it.

"Ugh," Blair bemoaned when she spotted the time on the clock. She couldn't believe how long she'd been at Dorota's place. "I need to go. I am supposed to be at the party for CeCe."

"No," Dorota was putting her foot down. The last place Blair needed to be at the moment was a party, wearing her mask and pretending everything was okay. "You stay here tonight. Serena understand."

"Dorota," sighed Blair. She didn't have the energy to fight anymore. Especially about this. She was tired and spent. And honestly, she didn't want to face the rest of the world right now. She wanted to stay cooped up in Queens with the unconditional love Dorota offered.

But Blair needn't worry because Dorota was taking charge.

"I make up guest room for you. I take care of everything. I call Ms. Serena and explain."

"But I don't have anything…" Blair tried to half-heartedly challenge Dorota before being cut off.

"When Vanya come home, I go get your things."

Dorota knew better than anyone exactly what she would need, so Blair couldn't argue. In fact, Blair couldn't bring herself to say anything at all.

"Come," urged Dorota and with one arm wrapped around her friend, she guided Blair down the hallway to her room for the night. Blair then removed her shoes and lay down on the bed, folding her hands beneath her head. Her eyes felt heavy, her mind was numb, and she could sense herself fading.

Just as Dorota turned to leave, Blair whispered quietly in the darkness, "Dorota, what am I going to do now?"

"That up to you. But now, sleep."

"I miss her."

"I know," agreed Dorota and she watched Blair nuzzle under the comforter as she prepared for sleep to take her.

Before exiting the room, Dorota couldn't help but leave Blair with a few reassuring words. "You strong Ms. Blair. I know you will get through this. You will be okay. And I know your future will be bright."

Dorota looked back and saw that Blair had indeed fallen asleep as she suspected. She shut the door without a sound and shuffled down the hallway. After phoning Serena to extend Blair's apologies for not attending the party that evening, Dorota made another call to an anxious and worried gentleman who was alone in a penthouse on the Upper West Side.

* * *

A/N: One of my greatest disappointments with Gossip Girl was how they handled Blair's loss of her baby (that and fake cancer to mention a few). I do believe that the accident and loss of her baby deeply impacted Blair and she was suffering for months afterwards. This fic is my attempt at resolving that.

I must thank both Maryl and Mary for their helpful discussions and for reading this over in it's various stages. Happy belated birthday Maryl – sorry its SOOO delayed.

And Happy New Year to all of you!


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